


Part of Your World

by mahbecks



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Little Mermaid Elements, Background Relationships, Chill XV, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fairytale elements, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Magic, Merpeople, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-18 23:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: A fierce storm hits Captain Gladiolus Amicitia's ship as he's heading off to rejoin the rest of the Lucian Navy. Injured in the ensuing chaos, he falls overboard, surely to drown.Until someone most unexpected saves him.A fill for the FFXV Kinkmeme! (Gladio/Merman!Ignis, magic, sacrifices, and miscommunication)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt on the Kinkmeme and just could not help myself. I fell in love with the idea. Here's a link to the full prompt:
> 
> https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3892.html?thread=4984884#cmt4984884
> 
> I don't want to post the full prompt here because it kind of goes into detail/spoils what's going to happen later on in the story, hahaha, and I don't really know who goes to the Kinkmeme and who doesn't, so I didn't want to spoil anyone who doesn't want to be spoiled. 
> 
> This first chapter is pretty much a prologue to set things up. I'll get into more details with subsequent chapters. 
> 
> (hopefully) Enjoy!

Gladiolus Amicitia had never really considered how he was going to die. 

He was young, he was healthy, he had a good position as a captain in the Royal Lucian Navy, and he stayed (mostly) within the confines of the law. Given the circumstances, to contemplate the end of his life would’ve been morbid.

And yet, he mused, looking out on the dark clouds overhead and the churning waters beneath, it was something that perhaps he should have considered a little more.

Beside him, someone jostled his elbow.

“We’re not getting out of this one, huh?”

Gladio turned, frowning at how mussed Prompto’s blonde hair was. The wind was strong indeed if it was capable of tangling his gunner’s crisply styled hair. He himself had tied his hair back in a tight plait, tucked neatly underneath the collar of his uniform. It was much more practical, and better kept the dark strands out of his face.

Prompto was normally a bright and cheerful individual; Gladio rarely saw him without a smile on his face. Now, however, he was nervously looking out at the seas, eyes wide with fright.

Gladio clapped an arm to his shoulder, trying to instill more confidence into his voice than he currently felt. “We’ve sailed through worse storms than this,” he said. “We’ll sail through this one too.”

Prompto eyed him, and then his eyes flicked up to the masts, eyeing how the winds were whipping at the sails. “Sure,” he said weakly. “Worse storms. We’ll make it. Okay.”

“We’ll make it,” Gladio repeated. “We have to - the rest of the Navy is counting on us. They'll need our guns in the fight against the Empire!” The mention of the Lucian Navy had Prompto straightening, resolve half restored. He nodded, wiping a hand over his face as if he could wipe away his fears. “Now, go, find Iris - I’ll need her in the wheelhouse. And ready the crew, tell them to lash everything we can’t spare down to the decks. Things are gonna get rough out there.”

Prompto nodded. He looked grateful for the order, for something to do that would distract him. Gladio watched him go, hoping this storm wasn’t going to make a liar of him.

The rain began to fall as he headed to the foredeck. Big, fat drops pelted his skin, soaking him through in a matter of minutes. It was a cold, icy rain, born south by the northerly winds. He shivered despite himself, wiping at his face. This was bad.

Very bad.

“Gladdy!”

Iris’ voice made him turn. His sister was making her way towards him, short brown hair plastered to her face. She’d refused the braid he’d offered to help her with this morning; now, he thought, watching as she irritably pushed it away from her forehead, she probably wished she’d taken him up on it.

“Iris,” he said, reaching to steady her as she lurched with a sudden, powerful wave. “I need you at the helm.”

She nodded, shooting him a cheeky grin. “‘Course you do!” she replied. “I’m the best you’ve got!”

“Think you can get us through that?” Gladio pointed behind him, towards the eye of the storm.

Iris eyed the seas, her lips thinning. She was silent for several minutes, and Gladio shifted uneasily on his feet.

“Iris…”

“I can do it,” she said. “I know these seas like the back of my hand. But it’s going to be ugly.”

“I can live with ugly,” he replied, nodding. “So long as we survive.”

Iris moved, taking the place of the man currently steering the ship. He relinquished control of it gratefully, eagerly making his way down to the main deck.

Gladio made to follow him, but Iris reached out a hand, grabbing him by the sleeve.

“Gladdy... “

Gladio raised an eyebrow, noting the worried note in his sister’s normally strong, confident voice.

She stared at him, brown eyes full of some emotion he couldn’t quite place. “Be careful, okay?” she said. “Promise me?”

He smiled. “I’ll do my best, Iris.”

It wasn’t quite a lie, and it wasn’t quite the truth.

And they both knew it.

Gladio was the ship’s captain, its commanding officer - this was his crew, men and women he’d handpicked from the Lucian Navy. He cared for each and every one of them. If he could protect them in any way, shape, or form, he’d do it - even at the risk of his own life.

Iris knew that, for she was the same way. A mutual trait, one they’d inherited from their father, himself a retired commodore.

Recklessly selfless, a friend had once called it.

Gladio preferred competent leadership, but hey. Now was hardly the time for semantics.

Iris squeezed his arm one last time and then turned her attention back to her duty, taking a firm grip and setting her feet wide.

Gladio launched himself down to the main deck, barking out orders as the ship careened towards the stormy waters. Tie down the loose ropes, brace yourselves, eyes open… they were in the thick of it now, buffeted in the waves like a child’s toy in a bath. The good news was that the storm was moving quick, pushing them closer to their destination with each howling gale, with each crashing wave.

The bad news was that this was a veritable shitstorm, one of the worst Gladio had ever seen.

A wave suddenly lashed the deck, nearly bringing him to his knees. Gladio sputtered, spitting seawater from his mouth as he righted himself and began dragging nearby sailors upright, helping them regain their bearings. “On your feet!” he roared, urging the men and women to grab hold of something firm lest they be washed away.

The first lightning strike nearly blinded him, and a resounding clap of thunder made his ears ache. He lurched as another wave pounded the deck, knocking his knee painfully into the main mast.

He ignored the dull, throbbing ache, keeping his eyes on his crew. Pride surged within him, then, pride for these men and women who called the ship their home. They were doing well, not panicking despite their wide eyes and frantic calls as they tried to communicate over the roaring of the wind.

Each wave threatened to take people overboard, dashing them into the dark, churning seas. Each gust of wind threatened to rip the sails away from their control. But the crew stood strong, and Gladio grinned.

 _We can do this,_ he thought, looping an arm around an injured woman’s shoulders and helping her to shelter beneath the forecastle.

Already, he could see the brightening skies on the other side of the storm’s dark clouds. They were making good time, the fast winds aiding them as much as they hindered them.

_We’re going to make it._

And then the second lightning strike hit.

A terrible cracking sound filled the air, and Gladio looked up, breath catching in his throat as the top half of the foremast toppled, falling backwards towards the deck at an alarming speed.

“Out of the way!” Gladio yelled. “Get down, get down!”

A flash of yellow crossed his vision, and Gladio watched, horrified, as Prompto dashed forward, pushing a man out of the way of the mast - and in the process, putting himself directly in its path.

“Prompto!”

Gladio didn’t think. He reacted.

He lunged, slinging an arm around his gunner’s waist and throwing him halfway across the deck.

_He’s safe!_

His moment of triumph was short-lived, something hard and heavy smacking into the back of his shoulders.

“Gladio!”

The pain was immense, the weight of the fallen piece of mast flinging Gladio to the deck. His head cracked when it hit the wooden surface, and he blinked, dazed, his vision spinning.

 _Move,_ he told himself, _Get to safety. Grab onto something._

His body didn’t respond.

Another wave hit them, and Gladio choked, water pouring into his open mouth. The water pushed him backwards, towards the ship’s railing, and Gladio only barely managed to catch himself as the wave tried to drag him backwards into the sea.

He was hanging precariously, arms and shoulders the only part of his body not dangling over the side of the ship.

_Not good._

“Hang on, big guy, I’m coming!”

He tried to pull himself up, but his body was failing to cooperate. Every movement felt thick and sluggish, and his vision was darkening ominously. His boots slipped when he tried to use his feet to lever himself up through the gap in the railing, and his nails scrabbled for purchase in the rough hewn wood. But everything was wet, _too_ wet, and he couldn’t get a hold of anything.

Someone knelt before him, reaching out with a pale, freckled hand. Gladio swung for it, gripping the fingers as tight as he could - and then he lost his hold, another wave pounding him into the side of the ship.  

“Take my hand!”

It was Prompto - small, lithe Prompto who weighed less than half of what Gladio did. Despite the way it made his skull ache, Gladio laughed.

He pushed Prompto away, refusing to let the blonde be dragged into the ocean with him.

“Take it!” Prompto yelled, bracing himself against the railing. “C’mon, take my hand-!”

The next wave that crashed into the side of the ship took Gladio with it, pulling him down into the depths. Gladio didn’t - couldn’t - fight it, taking a deep breath just before his back smacked into the water.

He tried to ignore Prompto’s anguished cry of alarm.

He plummeted, sinking like a stone despite his best efforts to propel himself to the surface. He was wearing too much clothing, his wool uniform soaked and heavy with water, and his dark leather boots weren’t helping. He kicked them off, lungs already burning, and tried again. But it was no use - he was foundering, his already impaired vision all but gone in the dark, murky water.

He’d never make it to the surface this way.

Something brushed against his thigh and he pivoted, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that had touched him. A fish? A shark?

He didn’t have time to think of it, renewing his efforts to push towards the surface and air.

Air. Glorious, blissful, dry _air._

He needed it, his body needed it, he was going to die if he didn’t get it soon - panic laced through his every thought, the only thing holding it at bay years and years of training.

But it was no use. He wasn’t making any headway. He was barely keeping his position in the water, no closer to the surface than he had been a minute ago.

And his oxygen was gone.

Suddenly, something large and powerful rammed into his back, propelling him upwards with surprising strength. He had only a moment to ponder what had hit him before he broke the surface, and he gasped, sucking down a mouthful of air and seawater. He coughed, violently, and the pressure at his back was gone.

Instantly, he sank back down, and he fought to get back to the surface, even if it was just to get his head above water.

He couldn’t see anymore, the combination of a potential concussion and oxygen deprivation momentarily robbing him of his sight. Desperate, he reached out with his hands, hoping for some bit of debris, something tossed overboard by the storm that he could use to help keep himself afloat.

He found it a moment later, fingers latching onto the ropes on the side of a loose barrel.

Praising the Six for all he was worth, Gladio used the last of his strength to hoist himself up, holding onto the ropes as tightly as he could. He thought he could feel someone tying him to the wooden surface, as if they were afraid he’d nod off and drown in his sleep.

But no, he had to be mistaken.

No one had fallen in after him, and no one would have been foolish enough to _jump._

“Is someone there?” he croaked, voice hoarse after expelling several mouthfuls of seawater.

The only response before he fell unconscious was the warm, comforting pressure of a hand against his back.

* * * * *

When Gladio awoke, the storm had broken.

His vision had returned as well, and though he felt rather battered and bruised all over, he had made it. Somehow, he had survived - he was alive.

Relief washed over him then, and he breathed out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He was _alive._

And there, several miles off in the distance, was his ship, looking mostly intact and unharmed.

He groaned, forehead thumping against the barrel. He was going to have to swim several _miles_ to make it back to safety?

Fuck him.

That would have been a trial even were he at his best.

In his current condition…

“Awake, are you?”

Gladio jerked upright, trying to find whoever it was that had spoken. He’d been wrong, someone _had_ come in after him. He felt a surge of annoyance at that, but it wasn’t true anger. How could he be mad when disobeying his orders had saved his life?

The man his eyes landed on, however, was neither a member of his crew nor anyone Gladio had ever seen before.

He blinked, confused.

“You-”

“I saved you, yes,” the man interjected. “You’re very lucky I was here. A few more moments, and you’d have surely drowned.”

“You… pushed me up?” Gladio asked. “You saved me?”

“Yes.”

“But… how?”

Gladio tried to think, but his mind felt fuzzy and addled, like someone had poked his brains around with a stick. He must have hit his head harder than he’d initially thought.

The man smirked, laying an arm across the barrel and resting his chin upon his hand.

His pale, _webbed_ hand, Gladio noticed, eyes widening.

Shimmering, blue-green webbing laced between each of his long, thin fingers, and there was a ridged fin sprouting out of his forearm. Gladio blinked, wondering if he was seeing things - but on closer inspection, there were scales lining the man’s throat, and when he looked down into the water, he caught sight of a long, delicately forked tail.

“You’re a-”

“Merman, yes. My name is Ignis.”

Gladio blinked. “You’re a _merman,_ and your name means fire?” he asked.

Probably not the question he _should_ have been asking, but it was the first one to pass his lips just the same.

Ignis snorted. “The irony is not lost on me, I assure you.”

Gladio stared at him, transfixed. He’d heard the rumors of merpeople living in the seas around Insomnia, of course; everyone had grown up hearing the tales, especially the children of members of the Royal Navy. But the stories hardly did the real thing justice.

Ignis’ skin was almost… iridescent, shimmering in the pale morning sunlight. There was seaweed woven into his long, brown hair and around his neck, he wore a small seashell pendant on a silver chain. His eyes were nearly the same color as his fins, glittering with a supernatural light that was utterly captivating.

He was perhaps the most beautiful thing Gladio had ever seen.

“You wish to go back to your ship, no?”

Gladio blinked at the sudden question.

“I can help you back,” Ignis continued. “In your current state, I wouldn’t advise swimming for an extended period of time. At the very least, you have a mild concussion, and at worst-”

“Why?”

Now it was Ignis’ turn to pause, giving Gladio a quizzical look. “Excuse me?”

“Why did you save me?”

Ignis hesitated, eyes shifting towards Gladio’s ship on the horizon. “I saw your ship,” he said slowly, thoughtfully. “I wondered whether you would brave the storm, or if you would turn back, try to outrun it.” His eyes darted back to Gladio. “You were foolish.”

“I had to do it,” Gladio insisted. “I needed to return to the rest of the fleet. My ship is the largest gunner in the Royal Navy-”

“You were foolish,” Ignis repeated, more firmly this time. “As so many humans are.”

“I did what I had to do.”

Ignis’ tail, stretching out behind him just beneath the surface of the water, flicked in what Gladio thought might have been annoyance, sending a little spray of water into the air.

“I told myself that you deserved what happened to you, that you were a terrible leader, putting the lives of your crew at risk by your actions. You were reckless, selfish, _stupid.”_

Gladio bristled, itching to defend himself, but Ignis didn’t let him speak.

“But then, I saw you push the other man out of the way of the mast. I saw you take the injury for him, and then, later, when he tried to pull you to safety, you sacrificed yourself rather than further risk his life.” He tilted his head to the side curiously. “Are all humans so selfless?”

There it was again.

Selfless.

Gladio snorted, shaking his head. “Not at all,” he muttered. “And neither am I.”

Ignis eyed him. Eventually, he shrugged, the light sparkling off his shoulders, momentarily blinding Gladio. “If you say so.”

“I do. And uh… thanks, I guess. For rescuing me."

Ignis nodded. “One good deed begets another.”

Gladio lifted an eyebrow. “That the only reason you did it? Because it was a ‘good deed’?”

“Of course.” Ignis smirked again, and again, Gladio’s breath caught in his throat. “That and the fact that it would have been a terrible waste of a handsome man if you’d drowned.”

Gladio hadn’t known what to say to that, and so he’d said nothing at all.

* * * * *

Ignis escorted Gladio back to the ship, pushing him through the water easily despite his weight. He was quick too, Gladio noticed, much faster than any human could swim. 

 _Of course he’s fast,_ he chided himself. _He has a tail. And fins. And-_

“Do you have gills?” Gladio asked, surprised. He reached over, noticing the three vertical slits behind Ignis’ ear. At the last second, he realized touching them might be considered rude, and he pulled his hand back.

“How else would I breathe underwater?” Ignis retorted.

He didn’t sound annoyed despite his huffy tone, and so Gladio risked another question.

“But if you have gills, how can you be halfway above water like this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ignis drawled. “Merpeople have both lungs and gills, Gladiolus. When above the ocean’s surface, we use our lungs. When underwater, we breathe using gills. That, of course, makes it difficult for us to produce human speech when we're submerged, and so among our own kind, we tend to resort to telepathic communication.”

“What, really?”

“Otherwise, we’d drown. It’s hard enough to eat without breathing in seawater, let alone speak.”

Gladio paused, wondering if perhaps now was a good time to mention one of the other rumors he’d heard about merpeople. He eyed Ignis askance, realizing that perhaps that there wasn’t _ever_ a good time for this kind of question. But still, he itched to know the truth, and now that he had a real merperson here beside him...

“Is it true that you eat… well - us? Humans?”

Ignis caught his eyes and chuckled. “No, Gladiolus, we don’t eat humans. Though not for lack of trying, I’m told.” He shot Gladio a wicked grin. “I’ve heard your kind tastes terrible.”

Gladio snorted. “Thank the Six for that, I guess.”

“Indeed.”

They pulled up a short ways away from the ship. A manageable distance, one Gladio thought he could swim even in his current state.

“There is where I leave you,” Ignis said quietly. “I dare not go too close to your ship.”

Gladio frowned, not missing the way the merman’s eyes were darting about the ship. “I won’t let them hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ignis gave him a thin-lipped smile, but said nothing.

Gladio could tell Ignis didn’t believe him. His posture was stiff and rigid, body angled away from the ship, ready to dart off into the waves at a moment’s notice. Ignis was not going to get any closer to his ship.

The thought made Gladio inexplicably sad.

“I guess this is good-bye then,” he said slowly.

Ignis looked up. “For now,” he said. “Yes.”

“For now?” he repeated. “Then you mean...?”

Gladio couldn’t keep the hope from his voice.

Ignis didn’t miss it either, and he chuckled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Gladio’s cheek. They were cool, soft - and Gladio wondered, suddenly, what it would feel like if they’d pressed against his lips instead.

He pulled away, pressing something hard into Gladio’s palm.

“Look to the sea, if you have need of me,” he said, moving backwards with a simple swish of his tail. “If I am near, I will come.”

“How?”

Ignis merely smiled at him and sank beneath the waters, darting away.

Gladio sighed, waiting until the telltale flash of sunlight reflected on aqua scales had faded before he looked down at his hand.

It was Ignis’ necklace - the seashell hanging from a fine, silver chain.

_Look to the sea, if you have need of me. If I am here, I will come._

Gladio closed his fist around the necklace.

“I’ll hold you to that, Ignis.”  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind response to the first chapter! 
> 
> We're slowly easing into the plot I have planned here, and soon enough, things will really start rolling :)

“A mermaid, huh?”

Prompto was sitting atop the ship’s railing, the seashell pendant Ignis had given Gladio dangling between his fingers. It glistened in the light, more than any shell should have, and Gladio couldn’t help but think that maybe it was more than what it appeared.

“A mer _man,_ ” he said, correcting Prompto. “His name was Ignis.”

“...weird name for a merman, isn’t it?”

Gladio snorted. “Yeah. I said the same thing.” He smiled, thinking back on the conversation he’d had with Ignis. “Suits him though.”

“I still can’t really believe it. You got saved by a merman. By a _merman,_ Gladio.” Prompto grinned. “Man, you must be one of the luckiest guys I’ve ever met.”

Privately, Gladio agreed. He _was_ lucky. It was incredibly fortunate that Ignis had just happened to be in the water near his ship at the time the storm had struck. If he’d been off somewhere else instead… well. Gladio would probably be at the bottom of the ocean right now, providing a meal for whatever bottom feeder happened to come across him.

But he didn’t say anything aloud. He knew Prompto felt guilty about what had happened, about how Gladio had pushed him out of the way of the falling mast; he’d spent all day yesterday following Gladio about the ship, trailing him like a puppy, and Gladio had lost track of how many times he’d said he was sorry.

It was unnecessary.

As if Prompto ever needed to apologize for saving someone’s life. If anything, he was proud of Prompto for protecting another member of the crew. He’d put himself in harm’s way to keep someone else safe. Gladio could hardly fault the man for doing the exact same thing that he would have done in the situation.

“So what’s he like?”

Gladio blinked. “Who, Ignis?”

Prompto nodded, holding out the pendant.

Gladio took it, trying to think up a suitable answer as he passed the chain over his head, letting the seashell hang in the hollow at the base of his throat.

Ignis was…

Ethereal. Otherworldly. Beautiful.

But Prompto knew all that. He’d heard the same stories that Gladio had as a child, stories of the intoxicatingly beautiful creatures that lived in the seas around Lucis. He’d seen the murals decorating the walls of the taverns in Galdin Quay. What could Gladio tell him that he didn’t already know?

“I dunno how to describe him,” he said finally.

Prompto sighed wistfully, turning his head to stare out at the sea. “I wish I could meet a mermaid. Or a merman,” he added a moment later. “I’d settle for either.”

Gladio snorted. “Here, lemme push you in, see if one comes to help you,” he teased, putting a hand on Prompto’s shoulder.

The younger man scowled and swatted his hand away. “Rude,” he huffed. “Besides, it wouldn’t work. We’re not moving, there isn’t a storm, and I can swim just fine. No one would come to help me.”

Gladio shrugged. “Maybe they’d come anyways,” he said. “Curiosity, and all.”

Ignis hadn’t been curious at all. Instead, he’d been wary, suspicious, cautious. But he didn’t tell Prompto that. Let the kid dream.

“Curious of what?”

Gladio reached out, ruffling Prompto’s immaculately styled hair, the hard, styled strands crunching beneath his fingers. “Why your hair’s waterproof, maybe.”

“Hey!” Prompto stood, stepping out of his grasp, putting his hands up to shield his hair from further damage. “It took me forever to get my hair to look like this!”

Gladio snorted at that, but said nothing. He didn’t really have a leg to stand on, considering all the efforts he spent correcting the damage the sea did to his own hair.

“Do you… think you’ll ever see him again?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re, uh… the necklace,” Prompto said, pointing.

Gladio looked down, surprised to see that he’d been twirling the seashell pendant between his fingers. He dropped it as quickly as if he’d been burned, hand falling back to his side.

The pendant was cool against his skin, and not warm as he’d expected. Strange.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking out to the ocean. “He said we might meet again one day.”

_If you have need of me._

Did that mean he’d only see Ignis again if he was in distress? If he fell overboard again? If he was ever in danger of drowning?

It certainly sounded that way.

“Then, hey, maybe you will!” Prompto said cheerfully, shooting Gladio a bright smile. “Never say never, right?”

Gladio tried to return the gunner’s wide, easy grin, though he hardly felt like smiling.

“Maybe. I hope so.”

* * * * *

Another day, another storm.

This time, the rain was accompanied by the fading din of cannon fire, the haze of smoke, and pockets of weak, dying flames hissing in the storm. They had broken through the Empire’s blockade, destroying their flagship and wreaking havoc upon the rest of the enemy fleet, their vengeance for the fall of Tenebrae swift and hard. Gladio’s crew had broken out the rum in their excitement, dancing and screaming and kicking at their victory before the cannons even stopped firing.

And then the storm had hit, threatening to rob them of the day’s glory.

“Steady!” Gladio roared, watching as two intoxicated men bumped into one another and almost fell over the side of the ship. He reached out, yanking them away from the railing. “Below decks, both of you!”

They hastened to obey, but not before Gladio ripped a flask away from the second’s hip. It reeked of alcohol, and he rolled his eyes, tucking it into his belt.

“Captain!”

Gladio turned, surprised to see Prompto standing before him. “Someone firing on us?” he demanded, crossing the distance between them in two long strides. He had thought most of the Nif ships had already turned tail and run for all they were worth, but he wouldn’t put it past the bastards to try and get a few good shots on while they could.

“What? No,” Prompto replied, shaking his head.

“No?” Gladio repeated, frowning at Prompto’s surprise.

“No, we’re good, the Nifs bolted after we hit ‘em with that last round,” Prompto said. He turned, hopping up the short flight of steps to the foredeck, beckoning Gladio to follow him. “It’s - well…” He broke off, huffing. “You’ll see what I mean!”

Curious, Gladio followed, rolling as the waves tossed the ship around. When they had reached the top, he peered over the side to where Prompto was pointing, trying to see what had caught the gunner’s attention. It was dark, the storm and smoke limiting his field of vision, and he squinted, leaning as far over the railing as he dared.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” he demanded.

“There!”

Gladio followed the path of Prompto’s finger, shifting his gaze to the right. “I still don’t -” His mouth snapped shut when he caught sight of glittering fins, almost luminescent in the dark.

“It’s him!”

Gladio’s grip on the railing tightened.

 _It can’t be,_ he thought, ignoring the way his heart had leapt into his throat. _This is_ -

“...that is him, right?”

“Hard to say,” Gladio felt himself say, though he still felt too dazed to speak.

There was another splash, a blue-green tail hitting the water with enough force to make an audible smack even over the sounds of the storm. Still, it was hard to tell; for all he knew, this could be a rogue dolphin, playing in the ship’s wake. They liked to do that, he’d seen them himself-

And then Ignis’ head popped up out of the water, and all of Gladio’s doubts were cast aside.

“Ignis!”

The merman stared at him for a moment, and then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he turned and dove into back underneath the surface of the water.

Beside him, Prompto coughed. “Well. I, uh - maybe he didn’t hear you?”

Gladio scowled, but before he could give voice to the hot retort threatening to spill from his lips, Prompto cried out once more.

“And there he is again!”

Gladio’s mouth snapped shut. Sure enough, Ignis had resurfaced, farther away from the ship this time. One of his hands was raised into the air, beckoning backwards.

Prompto sighed, shaking his head. “He’s been doing this for at least ten minutes. Popping up, waving at us, and then disappearing. Maybe he wants us to follow him?”

 _Maybe_.

There were rumors, they’d all heard them, of merfolk helping lead ships to safe harbor in the midst of storms. It had never happened to anyone Gladio knew, of course, the legends more likely to emanate from drunks in taverns than any authority on nautical matters.

But where there was a rumor, there was generally a grain of truth.

Holding this in mind, Gladio turned to the wheelhouse, surprised to see Iris scowling at the helm. “Iris!” he called. “Trouble?”

“I can’t see a damn thing!” she snapped back. “Between the smoke and the rain, we’re lucky we haven’t hit anything yet!”

“Shit,” Prompto muttered, leaning back against the railing.

“Oh, it gets better!” Iris said hotly. “Angelgard is out there somewhere! And you know what Angelgard’s beaches are like? Rock! Pure, solid, unyielding, ship-destroying _rock.”_  

“Shit,” Gladio echoed, turning back to the sea. Ignis was still there, bobbing in the waves, almost as if he were waiting for them.

...and maybe that was exactly what he _was_ doing. If the rumors were to be believed, merfolk were capable of leading ships to safety, guiding them along the safest paths through the storms that often plagued the southern coast at this time of year.

But what did he tell his crew? That they were changing course to follow a _merman_? That he was breaking with the rest of the fleet on the chance that they were being led to safety?

“Aw, hell,” he said, shaking his head.

There were too many factors to consider, too many options, and he hadn’t the time in which to do it. Coming to a quick decision, he whirled to face his sister again.

“Iris, turn the ship around!” he commanded.

“Do you have a heading?” she shot back.

Gladio made a quick calculation, trying to determine what direction Ignis had gone.

“Give me something here, Gladdy, c’mon!”

“East by northeast!” he snapped. “Back towards the shore!”

Gladio, trusting his sister’s ability to do her job, turned back to face the sea, eyes searching for Ignis amidst the roiling waves. He wasn’t hard to find, now that he knew where and what to look for. Sure enough, there was the telltale glimmer of sparkling fins, disappearing once more beneath the waves as the ship slowly turned to face him.

“You sure about this, big guy?” Prompto asked. He sounded nervous, and when Gladio looked over at him, it was to find him biting his lip, hands fidgeting along the rail.

Gladio snorted. “You got a better idea?”

“No,” Prompto admitted. He was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, “What do I tell the crew?”

Gladio wasn’t a liar. He wasn’t good at it, for one thing, and for another, telling anything other than the truth had always seemed dishonorable to him. He made it a point to be clear with his crew, outlining each mission, each assignment before they set out. If they didn’t want to complete the task, they were free to take shore leave. And that was how it should be, he thought, how his father had taught him it should be.

But now, faced with the prospect of telling the crew about Ignis, he was reticent. It was a secret, _his_ secret, something special that he had experienced and no one else had.

They hadn’t been pulled from the depths of the ocean by, given a second chance at life. They hadn’t been given a seashell pendant, and told to look for help should he need it. They hadn’t stared a merman in the eyes, mesmerized by the flash of his eyes and his fey beauty.

Perhaps it was selfish of him.  

For once in his life, he didn’t care.

“Tell them the truth,” he said finally. “We can’t see. We’re turning back to avoid the rocks.”

“And that’s all?” Prompto asked.

Gladio clapped a hand to Prompto’s shoulder, nodding, already looking back at the sea. “That’s all.”

* * * * *

Later that evening, Gladio found himself wandering the docks at the edge of Galdin Quay.

It was quiet out among the ships, the storm having long since passed. The only sounds were the quiet creaking of timbers and the susurrations of the waves. It was comforting in a way, after the chaos of the day’s battle.

 _And that tavern Prompto dragged me to,_  he thought with an amused laugh.

It had been even noisier than usual, the news of the Lucian Navy’s victory spreading like wildfire. Sailors and land dwellers alike had flooded the port, dancing and drinking their cares away, the cloud of the Empire's blockade finally chased away. It had been a decisive victory, one that would inevitably lead to some kind of treaty being signed between the two countries.

If it was up to Gladio, he wouldn’t have sought for peace. He’d had pressed on, taken the fight to the Empire itself, not resting until the Nifs had collapsed in on themselves in utter ruin. It was what they deserved after what they’d done to Tenebrae, what they’d been trying to do to Lucis for years.

But it wasn’t up to Gladio; no one had asked his opinion, and everyone had been given shore leave the rest of the week, and so here he was - alone and sober and far too morose for a night where everyone else was celebrating.

A sudden splash drew him from his thoughts.

 _A fish,_ he guessed. _Or a bird, trying to catch one._

He looked up, closing his eyes as the light of the moon washed over him.

They snapped open when another splash broke the silence.

He turned, looking for the source of the noise. But there were too many boats in the harbor, creating too many dark spaces for someone - or something - to hide.

“Looking for someone?”

Gladio recognized the amused voice, though he’d only heard it once before.

To be truthful, he didn’t think he’d ever forget it.

At the end of the docks, arms resting on the sunbleached wood, Ignis was staring at him, lips drawn back into a smirk.

Gladio took a step forward, and Ignis shook his head. “Not here,” he murmured, pushing away from the dock.

“Where then?” Gladio asked.

“There,” Ignis said, pointing to a long outcrop of rock, jutting into the sea. “Follow me.”

Gladio raced back to shore, breathless, boots slapping against the hard, packed sand of the beach. Though Ignis had said to follow him, his form had disappeared beneath the waves again, making him nearly impossible to track. Every so often, a fin would break the surface, catching the light of the moon, and Gladio grinned.

The waves were louder out among the rocks, and when Gladio finally slowed, his breathing was hard. His heart was pounding his ears, almost as loud as the sea itself - and not entirely from the run, if he was being honest.

Ignis was waiting for him, languidly stretched out on a rock. It was the first time Gladio had seen his entire body. He appeared human to the waist, broad shoulders tapering to trim, narrow hips before seamlessly transitioning to iridescent seafoam scales. His tail, that had at first appeared so delicate, Gladio could now tell was nothing of the sort, instead ridged with powerful muscle and tough, almost barbed scales.

It reminded him of the predatory fish he’d seen - lithe, long things, with enough teeth to shred through flesh in seconds.

He had no doubt Ignis could do the same to him, if he wanted. The merman could pull him beneath the waves, overpower him, and drown him, and no one would be the wiser.

He had to suppress a shiver as he stepped forward, falling to his knees in front of the merman.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Good evening,” Ignis drawled, propping himself up his elbows.

He said nothing more, and Gladio scrambled for words.

“I…”

“Are you normally this shy?” Ignis asked, pushing his hair over one shoulder.

Gladio snorted. “Not at all,” he admitted.

“Just with me, then,” Ignis said, smiling.

“Just with you.” Gladio shifted, the hard rock uncomfortable on his knees, and Ignis stiffened. Instantly, Gladio froze, wondering if the movement had startled the merman, but then Ignis was reaching a hand out, his fingers brushing the pendant around Gladio’s neck.

“You wore it,” he murmured.

Gladio blinked. “Was I not supposed to?”

Ignis shook his head. “No, you were,” he said. “It is a token of the merfolk, and they are meant to be worn. But not all humans do.”

Gladio frowned. “What else would they do with it?”

Ignis chuckled. “Throw it away, put in a chest somewhere, never to see it again,” he replied. “Their loss, I suppose - without the pendant, they can’t be found.”

“I… don’t understand.”

Ignis withdrew his hand, and Gladio had to fight not to chase it, not to draw it back and lay it against his chest.

“The token allows me to find you in times of distress,” Ignis explained. “No matter the distance between us, no matter that you live on land and I do not.” He lifted an eyebrow. “How else do you think I found you in the storm?”

“Maybe you followed me,” Gladio said, grinning.

Ignis just smirked at that, tail swishing.

“Or not.” Gladio sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Either way, I owe you my thanks. Again. If you hadn’t been there… well, my sister’s good, but not _that_ good. We’d have been dashed to bits on the rocks.”

“Mmm,” Ignis agreed. “You were headed straight for them.”

“Couldn’t see shit with all the smoke and rain,” Gladio said.

“Very lucky I heard your distress, then.”

“Yeah, definitely - wait, _heard_?”

“As I told you before, my people are telepathic,” Ignis explained. “We can hear each other’s thoughts. That token, when worn, allows me to hear _your_ thoughts as well.”

Gladio hesitated, suddenly recalling each and every less than appropriate or embarrassing thought he’d had in the past week - several of which were about the person right in front of him. “When you say hear…”

Ignis laughed. “Images, Gladiolus, main ideas, strong emotions… your private thoughts remain your own.”

“Oh. Good to know.”

The relief he felt was eclipsed by the sudden thrill that tingled up his spine at the mere way that Ignis said his name. It was a caress almost, Ignis’ voice like straight silk. It made Gladio want to make him say it again.

“If, knowing that, you are uncomfortable wearing the pendant, I shall understand,” Ignis said, intruding upon Gladio’s rapidly heating thoughts. He had pushed himself halfway off the rock, as if he were about to slip beneath the waves once more. Had he interrupted Gladio's silence for discomfiture? 

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” Gladio said quickly, putting a hand out to stay the other's movements. Ignis' skin was cool to the touch, and smooth. His eyes flitted down to where their bodies met, and Gladio relinquished his grip, worried he'd crossed a line.

But then Ignis looked back up, eyes curious. “No?”

“I want to wear it,” Gladio continued. “It’s the only way I can see you again, right?”

“Unless we were to meet by chance, yes.”

“Then I’ll wear it,” Gladio said.

Ignis studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. “You are… odd,” he said finally.

Gladio snorted, unable to stop himself. “I’m talking to a _merman,_ and I’m the odd one?”

“Your people are much the same, I’ve found,” Ignis replied, shrugging. “Humans all _say_ that they wish to meet one of my kind, but the moment they do, it’s as if all desire for contact disappears. They speak with us, they take our tokens, stars in their eyes… and then we never hear from them again. It’s as if, once the novelty of meeting us wears off, we become something feared, something untrustworthy. Something that should be avoided."

Gladio shook his head. “Maybe you’ve just met the wrong humans,” he replied. “Judging us all by a few experiences isn’t accurate. It can’t be. We’re too different.”

“Still, you understand my caution. When I gave you that, I honestly didn't think that you'd ever wear it, let alone that I would see you again so soon.”

"Then why give it to me at all?"

"Habit," Ignis admitted. "And I thought it worth a try." He smiled. "Perhaps you could say we're optimists, my people."  

"Well, I'm glad I wore it. I'm glad I got to see you again."

“Oh?”

“I like you,” Gladio admitted, shrugging. “I’m not gonna run away.”

“You like me?” Ignis tilted his head to the side. “Why?”

“I…” Gladio trailed off, the words he was looking for not coming to mind. For several long minutes, he sat there, trying to come up with an answer to Ignis’ question.

He found none.

Frustrated, he huffed out sharp breath, turning his head to the side.

A cool hand slid along his jaw, turning his head back until he could look Ignis in the eye. He was startled to find that Ignis had moved closer, their faces scant inches apart.

“I think I understand,” he murmured, fingers lingering at Gladio’s cheek.

He was so close, Gladio could count the beads of water dotting his skin. Two alongside his temple, three pooling in the bow at the top of his lips, another at the corner of his eye…

If he leaned forward, he could taste them.

But then Ignis pulled away, slipping off the rock and back into the water.  

“You’re leaving already?” Gladio asked. “But you’ve only just-”

“Your friends,” Ignis said sharply, nodding to something just over Gladio’s shoulder. Gladio looked back, groaning when he recognized Iris and Prompto. Any other time, and he would have welcomed the company. Now…

“I’ll tell them to go,” he said quickly, turning back around. “Gimme five minutes…”

But Ignis was already gone.

All of the breath left him in one swoop. Dejected, Gladio just sat there, staring at the space Ignis had occupied just moments ago.

Iris reached him first. “Gladdy!” she cried, sinking down to her knees and grabbing at his elbow. “C’mon! You’re missing one hell of party back at the Sea Witch!”

“Yeah?” he asked, disinterested.

“It’s crazy!” Prompto added, taking up Gladio’s other arm. Together, the two managed to hoist a rather unwilling Gladio to his feet. “You gotta see it, big guy!”

“Yeah, Gladdy, please? Why are you out here all by yourself, anyways? Celebrate with us!”

Gladio stared at the sea a moment longer, hoping against hope that Ignis would return.

He didn't, of course, and so he turned, letting himself be led away.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s celebrate.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUESS WHAT now there's art for this story!!!
> 
> Please, everyone, go check out this AMAZING picture of Navy Captain Gladio the incredibly talented jakface did for me:
> 
> http://jakface.tumblr.com/post/162535902047/navy-captain-gladio-a-commission-for-mahbecks
> 
> Also, please just check out everything else they've done (maybe even get your own commission!) because they are SUPER talented and amazing and I can't stop staring at Gladio because he is perfection, and I can't say enough good words <3

“Here. You look like you could use a drink.”

Gladio looked up in time to see Iris set a tankard of ale down in front of him. “Yeah?” He snorted, not surprised in the least that his sister had so accurately gauged his current mood. It was something she'd always been good at, even when she was just a toddler. “Thanks,” he muttered, pulling the drink towards him.

Iris hesitated a moment, and then took the seat across from him, folding her legs neatly beneath the table. “Is everything alright, Gladdy?”

“Yeah.”

And it was.

It had been a peaceful two weeks since the battle in the bay. He’d set about getting the damage caused to his ship repaired, paid the crew, and taken lodgings at a local inn. He’d met with the higher-ups in the Lucian Navy, discussing their next move. And he’d rested - not entirely of his own will, he had to add. Prompto had practically locked him into his room one weekend, telling him that he wasn’t to leave until he got some much-needed sleep. Gladio had yelled at him through the door, but the younger man hadn’t budged.

Much as he hated to admit it, he'd needed it. He’d been run ragged by that point, and as soon as he’d laid down, he’d been out like a light.

“Are you sure about that?” Iris prodded, leaning over the table. “You don’t look so good.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, taking a sip of ale. It was awful, watery and tasting more of spices than hops, but he forced himself to swallow.

Iris scowled. “Don’t lie to me,” she snapped.

“I ain’t lying-”

“Bullshit.”

“Keep it down!”

“Bullshit,” she crowed, louder this time, attracting the stares of several of the tavern’s patrons.

“Iris, I swear-”

“You gonna talk?”

“Will you fucking keep quiet?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly.

He took another swig of ale, glaring across the tankard’s rim at her. She pretended not to notice.

“Fine,” he said. “But you shouldn’t use that sort of language.”

“You aren’t my father,” she retorted.

She had him there. And really, he didn’t care if she cursed or not. But if their father heard about it - and he _always_ did, somehow - it would be Gladio’s fault, and then he’d get an earful of it, a thorough scolding for how he was letting his sister adopt the depraved habits of Lucian sailors.

And that was something Gladio just didn’t want to deal with - not now, not ever.

“So, then,” Iris said, clearing her throat as she changed the subject, “Why do you look so glum?”

He was silent for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how to phrase it without him sounding like an idiot.

Nothing to came to mind.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair and running a hand over his face. “I don’t wanna leave Galdin,” he finally admitted.

Iris blinked at him. “We’ve been here two weeks, Gladdy,” she pointed out. “And you love sailing. Why- oh.” She nodded to herself, brown eyes gone thoughtful. “I see.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow.

“This has something to do with Ignis, doesn’t it?”

Not for the first time, Gladio regretted ever mentioning the merman to his sister. He could have lied. Or, at least, he could have _tried_ to lie. But then, hiding the truth wasn’t something Gladio had ever been very good at, especially not with Iris. So he’d caved one night, finally responding to her questions about why he’d been acting so strange lately. 

The ensuing round of excited squeals and curious questions had given him more than one headache.

So he caved, nodding. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It does.”

Iris sat back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Have you seen him recently?”

“Not since the night of the battle,” Gladio admitted. It wasn’t for lack of trying - he’d gone down to the docks nearly every night since, hoping to see the flash of a tail or the sparkle of moonlight on glittering scales. Sometimes, he even ventured out to the little outcrop where they’d last spoken, sitting down on the rocks until his ass ached and he was drenched in seawater.

All for nothing.

Ignis was never there.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” Iris suggested. “Or something called him away.”

“Maybe,” Gladio allowed. He shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. A difficult task, considering how poorly made it was. “I guess I just feel that if I leave, he won’t be able to find me.”

Iris shot him a reproachful look. “Gladdy,” she said flatly. “He told you he could always find you.” She reached out, tapping the seashell pendant still hanging around his neck. “With this - remember?”

“I know.”

“So wanting to stay here just so he’ll know where you are is silly.”

“Yeah," he muttered, "I know that too.”

“It’s also super cute.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. “For the last time, Iris, I _don’t_ have a crush on him.”

She grinned. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m just interested, that’s all,” Gladio asserted. “You would be too, if you’d met a fucking merman.”

“Of course you are!” She laughed. “Interested in getting a _kiss,_ maybe.”

Gladio rolled his eyes, draining the last of his ale. “Whatever.”

The worst part was that he couldn’t even deny it.

He wouldn’t have called it a _crush,_ of course. That was stupid. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, catching feelings for whatever attractive man or woman caught his eye and smiled. What he felt for Ignis was… different. It wasn't a crush, it wasn't some stupid infatuation.

But there _was_ something there, something magnetic, compelling him to seek the merman out despite the fact that he knew next to nothing about him. He couldn’t explain it, and the one time he’d tried, he’d been met with a blank stare from Prompto and a bunch of giggles on Iris’ part.

Perhaps someday, he'd think up the right name for it.

“Captain Amicitia?”

Gladio snapped to attention, turning to the man who’d approached their table. He was new to the navy - Gladio could tell by his plain, unadorned uniform, by the rigid way that he stood. A messenger, probably, come to fetch him. He smiled, trying to put the man at ease. “Yeah?”

“Message for you, sir.”

Gladio took the little scrap of paper he was handed, glancing over the message written inside.

“What is it?” Iris asked curiously.

“A summons,” Gladio replied.

“Really? From who?”

Gladio looked up, smile fading. “Dad.”

Iris started, nearly jumping out of her chair. “Daddy’s _here_?” she asked, turning to the messenger. “In Galdin?”

“Ah, yes, miss,” the man replied. “He arrived last night.”

She turned back to Gladio. “What does he want?”

“The same thing he always wants,” Gladio retorted.

“Gladdy-”

Gladio stood, balling the paper up in his fist as he turned towards the messenger. “Tell him I’m on my way,” he said. The man nodded and gave a quick salute before running off.

Iris took a step towards him, her teasing grin exchanged for an expression of concern. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.

He appreciated the offer, he did. But their father wanted to talk to _him_ , which meant he planned on having words with Gladio, and that was something he didn’t want his little sister to see. She had a good relationship with the man, one not tainted by the weight of duty and honor and responsibility. Gladio intended to keep it that way.

“No,” he said, “That’s okay. Lemme talk to him now, and you can go visit him later.”

She nodded. “If you’re sure…”

“Yeah. But hey, can you go and find Prompto? I’ll need him to round up the crew. If Dad wants to talk to me… well. We’ll be headin’ out soon.”

“Of course,” Iris said. She put a hand on his arm, shooting him a smile that was altogether too knowing. “He does love you, Gladdy… you know that, right?”

Gladio snorted. “Yeah, I know.”

Iris gave him one long, final look before she left. Gladio relaxed a little once he was certain she’d gone, running a hand through his loose hair. He’d have to braid it before he met his father, of course. The man wasn’t just a stickler for tradition; he _loved_ tradition. Rules, regulations, protocol, ceremony… if it was an ages old custom, Clarus Amicitia enjoyed to partake in it.

And it was Lucian naval custom for officers to either shave their heads or tie their hair back, much to Gladio’s constant dismay.

He worked as he walked, fingers moving quickly through his salt-streaked hair. He grimaced at the tangles; he really should have bathed that morning. He needed it, after a long day of working on the ship yesterday. But he’d gone for a swim with Prompto and some of the other members of the crew after finishing up some business, and that had cleared the sweat from his skin, and by the time he’d finished, all he’d wanted was a quick meal and sleep.

Now it was just another thing for his father to rib him about.

The trek to the villa where his father always stayed was short but steep, the property set a little farther up the hillside than most of the city. As he climbed, the sounds of the port died away, replaced by the chirping of birds and buzzing of insects, both drawn to the large, colorful flowers lining the path.

His father’s assistant, Jared, was waiting for him at the entrance; he opened the gate, ushering Gladio in with a calm, practiced smile. “Good afternoon, Gladiolus,” he said, using Gladio’s given name instead of his title. One of the many things Gladio liked about him.

Another was his recipe for pot roast.

“Hey, Jared,” Gladio replied. “Dad sent for me?”

Jared nodded, leading the way inside. “He’s heard many good things about your efforts in the battle,” he said. “I believe he wants to congratulate you.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”

“Of course.” Jared stopped outside a dark wooden door, one hand resting on the polished bronze knob. “Among other things.”

Gladio snorted, his brief moment of hopeful uncertainty crashing to pieces. “Yeah,” he said. “Figures.” He stepped forward as soon as Jared opened the door, wanting to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.

At fifty-two years of age, Clarus Amicita still cut quite the imposing figure. Of a height with Gladio, and almost as muscular, his dark uniform was tight across the chest and back. Silver epaulettes decorated his shoulders, and his chest was adorned with badges and medals of all kinds. Tokens of his feats, of his victories, of his service. He wore them proudly, but not out of misplaced pride. He had earned each and every one of those, and only a fool wouldn’t recognize it.

He turned to face Gladio as the door clicked shut behind him. “Gladiolus,” he said, nodding his head once.

“Dad,” Gladio shot back.

Clarus eyed him, nose scrunching up in distaste as he took in Gladio’s messy hair, unpolished boots, and slightly wrinkled uniform. “Did you just roll out of bed?”

 _Did you take the stick out of your ass?_  

“No,” Gladio replied. “Haven’t had my uniform cleaned just yet.”

“You should,” Clarus replied. “It isn’t good to let the dirt settle in.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I hear you performed admirably during the Battle of the Quay,” Clarus continued, ignoring his flippant response. “Nyx said that it was you and your crew who helped turned the tide.”

“That what they’re callin’ it?” Gladio asked.

“Cor noted your efficiency too. He’s suggested you be rewarded for your efforts.”

Gladio didn’t like this. Rewards were supposed to be nice, fun even.

The way his father said the word made him think it was anything but.

“We’re sending you to Altissia,” Clarus went on. “You’ll be carrying the King himself, and the ambassadors attending the peace accord with the Empire.”

Gladio froze. “ _What?”_

Clarus raised an eyebrow. “You heard me.”

“I - the accords are in two days. I won’t even be ready to _sail_ by then, let alone have enough time to make it to Altissia in time for the ceremonies.”

“You will,” Clarus disagreed. “If you hurry.”

“Dad, this is-”

“A very great honor.” Clarus fixed him with a steely eye. “One many of your superior officers would be incredibly grateful to receive.”

Gladio took in a deep breath, trying not to let his frustration show. “It’s not that, Dad,” he said. “It’s just - this is impossible. My crew isn’t ready to sail. We aren't even done with the repairs-”

"How much work is left?"

"I dunno, a day's work? Maybe?"

“Good. Then you can leave tomorrow.”

“My crew-”

“Can be replaced, if they aren't ready,” Clarus interjected. “There’s more than enough men and women willing to serve on the King’s vessel. I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a few for you. Here,” he said, handing over a piece of paper, “Their names and service histories.”

Gladio tried not to sound as outraged as he felt. “I’m not abandoning my crew,” he said, not once looking down at the paper his father had handed him.

“Don't be foolish, Gladiolus. You’ll need the extra hands, anyways,” Clarus said. “Especially once you’re in Altissia, where you’ll be serving as the King’s honor guard at the opening ceremonies.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

Gladio ran a hand over his face. “You coulda at least told me earlier,” he snapped, “instead of just springin’ this on me like this, Dad.”

“It wasn’t decided earlier.”

“Oh, bullshit-”

“Do you not want to do this, Gladiolus?” Clarus was leaning forward, hands gripping the sides of his desk so hard the knuckles were white. “Would you rather stay here in Galdin, and let another take your place?”

“No.”

“You’re certainly acting like it.”

“You’ve given me no time to see this done right,” Gladio protested.

“Ah.” Clarus straightened. “You’re angry.”

“Hell yeah, I’m angry!”

“This is just like you, you know - I secure an opportunity for you, and you throw it back in my face just to spite me.”

“You know that isn’t what this is, Dad-”

“Gladiolus!”

Gladio snapped his mouth shut.

Clarus stared at him for a moment, jaw clenched tight. “Enough of this. I need to know your answer,” he said stiffly. “Will you escort the King to Altissia?”

Like he had a choice.

“‘Course I will,” he replied.

“Fine. I will inform the King.”

“You do that,” Gladio retorted. “I’m leaving.”

He didn’t wait for permission before he stormed out of the study, door banging against the wall as he set off for the lower city.

* * * * *

That night, Gladio found himself alone on the beach, staring out at the waves.

He was still angry, though it had faded to a dull roar, a simmer beneath an outward facade of calmness. The frantic pace at which he’d had to work in order to get the ship ready to sail in the morning had done wonders to keep his temper at bay. He’d been able to pour his emotions into physical labor, helping his crew swab the decks, mend sails, tend to the rigging…

It wasn’t unusual for him to do that sort of thing. He liked to help out as much as possible, not liking to pull rank and save himself from the less pleasant chores. But today his temper had been palpable, and most of his crew had avoided him like the plague.

Probably better that way.

And yet, it was ironic, because all day he’d been dying to talk to someone, to vent about his frustrations with his father. Prompto would have been his first choice, or maybe even Cor, his father’s old friend and Gladio’s old teacher. But the both of them had been busy. Iris too was out of the question; Gladio’s relationship with their father was his business, and just as he hadn't wanted her to go with him to meet the man, he didn't want to burden her with his problems now.

It was likely why he’d come down to the beach as soon as he was able, hoping against hope that tonight might be the night that Ignis met him.

He paced along the shore, waves lapping at his boots. Every so often, he’d turn and look out at the sea.

It was stupid.

Ignis hadn’t come to him any other night. Why would he come now?

He snorted, shaking his head at himself.

Maybe Iris was right - maybe calling his feelings a crush wasn’t so far off the mark, after all.

Because why would else he be down here, stomping around in the sand, when he should have been in bed? He needed to sleep; they were leaving at dawn tomorrow, and they would have to work quickly to get to Altissia in time. He needed to be at his best, alert and ready for anything that could pop up.

He did _not_ need to be mooning after a merman who didn’t seem all that interested in talking with him anymore.

A splash caught his attention, and he stopped, turning towards the sea.

Could it-

No.

There was nothing there.

He turned, chiding himself for being so foolish, and made to leave when he heard the noise again.

Gladio whirled, frowning at the waves.

And there, to his utmost surprise, was Ignis, bobbing in the dark water with a smile on his face. The merman waved a hand, beckoning, and Gladio didn’t need to hear him to understand what he wanted.

His irritation momentarily forgotten, he reached down and shucked off his boots, his jacket and trousers joining them a moment later. Clad in nothing but his undergarments, he waded out into the water. It was cool, but not cold, and he started swimming as soon as it was deep enough, long, powerful limbs propelling him towards the merman.

Ignis was waiting for him behind a large rock, one hand placed on the craggy surface to keep himself steady.

Gladio grinned. “Hey,” he said, panting a little with exertion. “Long time, no see.”

Ignis arched an eyebrow. “Oh?” he asked. “Was I supposed to be paying you nightly visits?”

“I wouldn’t have complained.”

“Interesting.” Ignis pushed away from the rock, circling around Gladio. It seemed predatory, and Gladio felt a little thrill rush through him, his muscles tensing despite knowing that Ignis didn’t want to hurt him.  

Or at least, he didn’t _think_ Ignis wanted to hurt him.

Why rescue him, otherwise?

“You were very loud today, you know.”

Gladio blinked, taking a moment to realize what Ignis meant. “Oh,” he said, a hand coming up to touch the pendant still hanging around his neck. “Sorry about that.”

Ignis cocked his head to the side, curious. “Did something happen?”

Gladio snorted. “You could say that,” he muttered. “I, uh… had a meeting with my father.”

Ignis blinked. “Your sire,” he said. “You… don’t like him?”

“No, that’s not - I like him fine,” Gladio said, shaking his head. “He’s just…”

“Yes?” Ignis prompted.

“We don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on a lot of things,” Gladio explained. “He’s very traditional.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Don’t get me wrong, that kind of stuff is important,” Gladio said quickly. “And I don’t think it’s stupid. But it’s… it ain’t everything, y’know?”

Ignis made a noncommittal noise, ducking beneath the water briefly before resurfacing, slicking his hair back from his face. “Is that what you argued about today? Traditions?”

“Not exactly.” Gladio gave the merman a quick recounting of his talk with his father, leaving out the expletives and angry words they’d exchanged. All the while, Ignis watched him carefully, taking in his words without judgment or pause. Occasionally, he would ask a question, and every time Gladio would answer as best he could. Ignis was a good listener, he found, his anger fading as he finally got everything off his chest. He had no idea how long he'd spoken, how much of Ignis' time he'd wasted. But the merman wasn't complaining, and Gladio certainly wasn't.

He ended with the news that he was to leave for Accordo come the morning, piquing Ignis' curiosity.

“Altissia,” Ignis mused, stumbling slightly over the word. “Is that what your people call the water city? The one with all of the canals?”

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “You know it?”

“I’ve been there, once or twice,” Ignis murmured. “It is… lovely.”

“This’ll be my first time there.”

“Oh? But you know how to get there?”

“‘Course,” Gladio said, grinning. “My navigator’s top-notch, and I have plenty of maps and sea charts.”

“Which route are you taking?”

“Gonna have to take path through the shoals,” Gladio said, his grin fading. “It’s the quicker way, and I’m on a deadline.”

Ignis froze. “You can’t.”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

The shoals were dangerous to navigate, even for the most experienced of crews. A labyrinth of shallow, sandy paths, the path through the shoals was the quickest way to Altissia from the continent. It was also, as Ignis likely well knew, the more dangerous road. Most ships took the longer path through the open water, not wanting to risk dashing a hole in the hull.

“If you do this, you will be putting the lives of your entire crew at risk.”

“And if I don’t get the King to Altissia on time, there can’t be a peace treaty with the Empire,” Gladio pointed out. Ignis didn’t look convinced, his brows drawn together, and Gladio sighed. “Look, I don’t like it either. But my dad was pretty clear - I get it done, or he’ll find someone else who will. And I _know_ my navigator’s better’n any other in the fleet.”

Ignis pursed his lips. “You’re sure of this?”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t change your mind?”

“I can’t.”

Ignis sighed. “Foolish man.”

Gladio blinked, surprised. “Ignis, I can’t-”

“Foolish, _stubborn_ man.” Ignis’ tail flicked, annoyance plain on his face. He paused for a moment, considering something, and then nodded. “I shall come with you.”

Now it was Gladio’s turn to freeze, his body slipping a bit as he momentarily forgot to keep treading water. “What?”

“What part didn’t you understand?”

“No, I got what you said, I just - why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“To help us through the shoals?”

“I don’t wish to see you killed,” Ignis admitted. Hesitantly, as if he were afraid Gladio would recoil, he reached a hand out, touching the tips of his fingers to Gladio’s cheek. He kept them there, cool and wet, for several long moments.

Gladio could scarcely breathe.

“No,” Ignis continued, fingers trailing down along Gladio’s jaw, and then down further still, finally resting at the hollow at the base of his throat. “That would be… painful for me.”

“But what if you’re seen?” Gladio asked.

Ignis’ eyes flashed, and his lips drew back into a feral sort of smile. “I won’t be seen,” he said firmly. “Not unless I wish to be, of course.”

Gladio hoped he was right. He had no doubt in Ignis’ abilities to conceal himself, but he had also spent a great deal of time putting together the best crew that he could. The best, most talented, most _observant_ team he could find. If someone happened to spot a merman dancing around the ship…

Well.

He didn’t really want to think about it.

“Do you not wish me to go?”

“No,” Gladio said quickly, “I want you to, I - I’d really appreciate it, actually. Your help would be invaluable. And,” he added, “If I got to see you more often?” He chanced a smile. “Definitely a side benefit.”

“Oh? You enjoy seeing me?”

“Yeah.”

“A sentiment I share,” Ignis murmured. “Strange as it seems…” His eyes flicked down, to Gladio’s lips, and for half a second, Gladio half-thought Ignis was going to kiss him.

But then the merman frowned in concern, and just like that, the spell was broken.

“Your lips are turning blue.”

“Are they?” Come to think of it, Gladio supposed he _was_ cold. The temperature had dropped quite a bit, and while the water hadn’t seemed too chilly when he’d first gotten in, he also hadn’t been paying much attention.

He’d been… distracted.

“You should return to shore,” Ignis advised.

“I don’t want to,” Gladio replied.

“No? You would rather stay here with me all night?”

Gladio hesitated, thinking maybe he’d said too much. But Ignis was looking at him so earnestly, eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, and oh, what the hell, he was already being too bold for his own good, the truth couldn’t hurt.

“If I could,” he said. “And you had no objections.”

“But what would we do?” Ignis asked, frowning. “Why would you want to spend so much time with me?”

Gladio shrugged. “Honestly, Iggy, I could talk to you for hours, and I don’t think I’d ever get bored of it.”

Ignis blinked. “Iggy?” he repeated.

_Oh, hell._

Had he said that aloud?

It was how he’d begun to think of the merman in his mind, his given name sounding strangely formal to Gladio. But he’d not asked Ignis if was alright to call him that before blurting it out, and now… well, he felt a bit like an idiot.

_Way to ruin the moment._

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to say that-”

“I like it.”

Gladio paused. “Yeah?” he asked, lips curving up in a smile.

“Mmm.” Ignis nodded. “A nickname… I’ve never had a nickname before. They aren’t terribly common among my people.” He looked back to Gladio. “Have you a nickname, Gladiolus?”

“Most of my friends just call me Gladio.”

“Ah. And… am I your friend?”

“I’d like you to be,” Gladio admitted.

For perhaps the first time since they’d met, Ignis offered him a smile - a real smile, and not a smirk or a grin or a predatory leer.

Just something that spoke of genuine happiness.

“I would like that, as well,” Ignis admitted. 

Returning to shore wasn’t quite so hard after that.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! 
> 
> Feedback is much loved and appreciated :)


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